


Game Over

by hecateandhoney (LiveLoveLikeMe)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Embarrassment, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLoveLikeMe/pseuds/hecateandhoney
Summary: Hecate's distracted by the game, which is a problem, because Ada Cackle is in danger.  Hackle oneshot.





	Game Over

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hi hello! This is just a little something I wrote up after watching 3.06 The Game. I HIGHLY suggest watching that before reading this story. It's honestly such a good episode, I would hate to spoil anything for you. That said, I think I managed to leave out any major spoilers for it, so proceed at your own risk.
> 
> Inspired by the lovely detectivecaz, who so kindly pointed out to me that during one of the scenes, Dimity can be seen tackling Ada to get her out of the way, and how nice it might be if Hecate did that instead.

It’s just for science—an experiment if you will.

Hecate is merely curious about the game currently rampaging through her school, and as deputy head, it’s her duty to be informed.  So of course she has to play it.

And soon, after just one more game, she swears she’s going to stop playing it.  She has nearly enough bracelets—err, intel.  Nearly enough intel to know that this game is indeed very bad news, and she should be doing everything in her power to put a stop to it before it spreads any further.

Definitely just one more.

The door swings open without so much as a knock, which seems to be increasingly common around Cackle’s these days, and Hecate jerks around in front of the big glowing board to yell at whichever student has dared to interrupt her this time.  Now she’ll have to start her last game all over again.

Hecate opens her mouth to scold, but the words fall flat when she realizes it’s Ada.  For just a moment, her heart flutters to life in her chest, and she feels herself softening in the other woman’s presence, but then her eyes follow Ada’s shocked gaze to the game projected into the air behind her, and Hecate freezes.

There’s nothing she can do to make this go away, quickly eliminating memory altering charms and forgetting powder.  She can’t do such a thing to Ada, even if the temptation is strong.  She watches as ever so slowly, a Cheshire grin spreads across the blonde’s face.  Hecate swallows thickly and feels her cheeks flush with warmth. 

“Ada,” she begins, clearing her throat.  “Can I help you with something?”  Perhaps if she doesn’t mention the game, Ada will take the hint and let it go. 

“I see you’re getting into the spirit of the trend,” Ada says instead, winking at Hecate as she steps around to observe it. 

“I was doing no such thing, Headmistress,” Hecate’s quick to defend, “I am merely researching what we’re up against.”

“I see,” Ada says like she very much does not believe her.  “Have you found anything useful?  In your research?”

Hecate sniffs.  “I believe it should be strictly banned at once.  It clearly contains dangerously addictive qualities that will set the course for poor exam preparation.  We should cut it off at the neck and be done with it.” Hecate nods sharply.

Ada gives her a knowing look, but does not press the issue.  “If you say so, Hecate.  I suppose you would know.”  Her eyes trail down to Hecate’s wrist, where now five different colorful bracelets rest.  The spoils of her own downfall.  Embarrassed, Hecate vanishes them away and looks at Ada to dare bring them up.

“You came here for something?” Hecate prompts, desperate to change the subject from herself.

Ada jumps, something sparking back to recognition in her eyes.  “Oh, yes!  It seems Miss Bat and Mr. Rowan-Webb have disappeared for what I can only hope is a mid-afternoon nap.”  Hecate shudders at the thought.  “I could really use your assistance in judging the broomstick hurling tryouts.”

It’s a far cry from how Hecate wants to spend her prep-time—though decidedly spending it on _the game_ is not any more productive—but she has a hard time denying Ada anything when she smiles at her like that.  In fact, she’s noticed increasingly, she has a hard time denying Ada anything at all.  So it comes of no surprise to Hecate when she hears herself agreeing.

“Wonderful!  I’ll just let you… get your things together,” Ada says, looking pointedly at the failed game now flashing behind her, “and you can come join me on the field as soon as you can.”

It’s harder than Hecate likes when she goes to close down the game.  She yearns to press “replay” and finish her one final go at it—but no, it’s better this way.  Ada is saving her from a ridiculously addictive activity that’s only going to lead to disarray.  In fact, she’s so thankful for Ada’s interruption that she deletes it right from her maglet before she can even think about starting it back up.

If only she’d deleted it sooner, she might have spared herself the embarrassment of being caught playing.  It’s a lesson rightly learned, and Hecate will not make the same mistake again.

With far too much reluctance, she locks her maglet up in the top desk drawer and transfers herself out to the field.

Already there’s a bustle going on as students prepare to hurl their brooms.  She quickly strides over to her place at Ada’s side, and notices the other woman’s admiring gaze on her empty hands.  Hecate has done it—she’s beaten the addiction of the game.  And when this is all over, she’s going to ensure the rest of the school is rid of it as well.

Even now as she stands here waiting, she can see half the students watching the tryouts are truly much more focused on their maglets.  There’s a second year on level two doing a horrific job of moving the pieces fast enough, and she’s half tempted to transfer over and correct the girl before she gives herself pause.  Her eyes flicker over to Ada, hoping she hasn’t noticed the momentary lapse, but Ada’s watching the girls set up with a happy smile on her face, oblivious to Hecate’s inner turmoil.

Honestly, she shouldn’t wait until later, she should find a way to obliterate the game immediately.  There’s something sinister about it that she cannot quite place her finger on.  At first it seemed like perhaps there was something in the runes, but their history was easy enough to figure out, and there was nothing harmful about the game even back then.  If anything, that had only served to endear her to the game further.  She loves witching history.  Yet still, it’s almost as if her magic wants to wrap itself around the little pieces, and she can’t shake the feeling that—

How _dare_ Winifred Starsky make such a juvenile move!  Honestly, Hecate could do a better job with her eyes closed.  Again she fights the urge to transfer over and correct the young witch.

She looks back over to the pitch where there are no maglets full of games to distract her.  She needs to find better resolve like Ada.  Ada hasn’t shown the slightest interest in the fad, brushing it off as just another passing thing, and for that Hecate admires her.  Ada should be an example to them all.

Ada, whose necklace Hecate suddenly realizes greatly resembles one of those runes.  She slams her eyes shut the moment the thought hits her.  How _dare_ she associate Ada with that vile waste of time?  She should reprimand herself for it, and thinks later on she will.

Yet, even as she closes her eyes, it’s like she can see the little game board, the pieces zooming across her memory in an intricate puzzle she can solve without even touching it. 

“GIRLS HIT THE DECK!”

Hecate startles, eyes bolting open in surprise.  In her distraction, she’s completely missed the start of the tryouts, and now suddenly there are broomsticks flying straight at them.

Straight at _Ada_.

Hecate does not think—thankfully, as clearly her mind can no longer be trusted—and dives in Ada’s direction.  It is a move entirely without elegance, practicality, or reserve.  She embodies a lion out for a pounce and slams into Ada, their fronts pressed together, knocking the wind out of both of them all at once.  Ada just has enough time to grab Hecate’s waist for balance before she tips backwards, thrown off by the shock of Hecate’s sudden force, and down they go.

Hecate releases a very undignified yelp and clings to Ada’s shoulders while Ada makes a pained “oof” as she slams into the grass, tugging Hecate down on top of her.

Hecate blinks, her face inches away from Ada’s.  She’s shifted during the fall, making them level with one another.  She cannot deny, her tactic was effective.  Ada doesn’t seem to have any broomsticks impaling her, and from the quieting of the screams, she thinks the attack must be over.  Hecate sighs in relief, allowing herself to relax.

Which unfortunately means relaxing down on Ada, as she’s very much still sprawled out on top of her, feeling each and every breath the other woman takes rattle through her bones. 

“Hecate?” Ada questions, huffing for air.

“I… uhm…”  Hecate blanches.  The problem with not thinking is that it suddenly becomes very hard to explain her thoughtless actions.  Like now, here on top of Ada, feeling her warm breath on her lips so close it makes her dizzy with intoxication.  Ada smells like lemons and sugar—clean and sweet and so many things Hecate can’t resist.  Her hands, still firmly tucked around Hecate’s waist despite the lack of continuing danger, are searing hot through the fabric of her dress.

“A-are you two all right?” Dimity interrupts, unable to hold back a snort of laughter.  Hecate twists uncomfortably and levels her with a glare.

“ _Some_ of us take the Headmistress’ safety more seriously than others,” Hecate sniffs.

“No one would doubt you take a lot of things about Ada very seriously,” Dimity quips quietly. 

Hecate is about to retort to ask exactly what it is she means, when she becomes aware of the fact that a lot of eyes are looking down at them.  Suddenly there is a spectacle much more fascinating than a maglet game—their teacher is sprawled out on top of their headmistress in the grass, and Hecate abruptly notices it has been an awkwardly long amount of time for them to have not yet moved apart.

Hecate clears her throat and tries to stand.  It isn’t easy in her dress, all the while trying not to jam a knee or elbow into Ada, yet she still waves off Dimity’s offered hand.  She’s embarrassed herself more than enough without any added help.

“What are you all staring at?” she sniffs harshly, angling a glare around at the remaining students still watching the display.  She has half a mind to say more, but they scatter before she can be bothered to, and Ada is still on the ground.

Tenderly, Hecate reaches down to help her up, frowning at the grass stains on her skirt.  “My apologies, I will have that cleaned.”

“No need, Hecate,” Ada says kindly.  “You were only trying to protect me.  I should be thankful for your… gusto.”

Hecate knows she’s blushing, but there’s little she can do to stop it.  She feels hot with shame.  She’s humiliated Ada in front of half the school with her rash actions, and she can’t even think what must have come over her.

No, thinking back to Ada’s hands on her hips, she _knows_ what came over her.  What always comes over her when Ada’s in danger, or needs assistance, or smiles at her in just the right way.

Ada pats her arm in thanks and rushes off to get to the bottom of the catastrophe, reminding Hecate of the real reason for her humiliation.  She’d been distracted—too distracted to notice something was wrong until it was nearly too late, and it was all because of that game.

Feeling hot with her shame, Hecate transfers away to her potions lab.

 

 

 

It is hours later before she shows her face again.  By now the game seems to be gone, and peace has once more returned to Cackle’s.  In fact, it’s almost silent, and she can’t put her finger on just what’s missing.  She thinks it must be the game—already such a part of her mind, she has a gap where it once existed.  It’s too late to fill the hole, just like it’s too late to undo her mistakes.

Which is why she must do the unthinkable.

Hecate knocks nervously on Ada’s office door, waiting to be admitted entrance.  She’s almost too ashamed to look Ada in the eye as she enters, and sits in the seat across from her desk before Ada can try and offer her tea by the fire.  She does not deserve such familiarity.

“Ada, I’ve come to speak with you about something rather serious,” she says, holding herself together.

“Oh?  Is it about what happened during the broomstick hurling tryouts?  Because I must say, I found it rather charming.  If you’re here to apologize, there’s no need, Hecate.”  Ada sits across from her, smiling kindly.  Hecate’s heart leaps in her chest—she’s going to miss that smile.

“Not exactly.”  She pauses, clears her throat and twists her hands around her timepiece.  “Miss Cackle, I…”

“Oh dear, Miss Cackle?  It’s never good for me when you pull that out,” Ada quips, sipping from the tea she must have already been drinking before Hecate’s arrival.

“Ada,” Hecate corrects, wanting this to feel right when she knows nothing about it ever will.  “I’ve come to offer you my resignation.”

Ada drops the biscuit she’s about to dip right into her cup with a succinct plop.

“I’m sorry?  I must have misheard you.”

“I said that I have come to offer my resignation.  I shall finish out my two weeks’ notice, if you find that appropriate.  I have very much appreciated every opportunity I’ve been given here, and I shall miss it very much,” Hecate admits, trying not to get teary-eyed.  Truthfully, the thought of leaving Cackle’s rips her apart.

“But… why?” Ada cries, looking distraught.

“To spare you the discomfort of having to fire me,” Hecate says, like it’s obvious, because it should very much be.

“Hecate, I had no intention of firing you at all,” Ada says, exasperated. 

“Well, you should,” Hecate flounders.  “I not only humiliated you in front of the entire school, but I also placed you and everyone else in danger in the first place.  My own carelessness has led to a very serious breach of duty.”

Ada looks at her strangely and sets her hands down on the desk.  “I hope you know I would never be upset with you for trying to protect me.  It was admittedly a bit dramatic, given the circumstances, but you’ve never exactly been subtle,” Ada teases gently.

“That still doesn’t answer for my neglect.  As deputy head, I should never have allowed such an incident to occur on my watch.  I must admit to you that I was distracted by that ridiculous game, and I nearly missed the danger entirely.”

“Oh, Hecate, honestly.  You were hardly the only staff member present—even I couldn’t see what was about to transpire.  You can’t predict every danger before it happens, and no one was harmed.”

“Still, I think it best…”  Hecate sighs.  She knew Ada would fight her on this; her heart is notoriously too big for her own good.  And yet, faced with her resistance, it’s difficult to press on.  Wordlessly, Hecate transfers her cacophony of rainbow bracelets back to herself from vanishment and passes them across the desk to Ada’s stunned hands.  “I think it best if you have these, now.”

She expects some sort of reaction from Ada, but not the one she gets.

Ada looks at her, blinks down at the bracelets, and then looks back up.  Slowly, her frown cracks upward into a smile, and she bubbles with laughter.

Hecate is confused.  She doesn’t think her resignation deserves such glee—not from Ada at any rate—but on she goes.  And then even more curiously, Ada holds up her own hand.

And slowly she pulls back her sleeve to reveal her own arm of bracelets.

_Oh._

Hecate stares, mouth agog, trying to piece her thoughts together.

And then she joins Ada’s laughter, gasping until it hurts to breathe, her stomach muscles straining against the strange flexes she so rarely enjoys.

“You see, Hecate, if I have to fire you for playing a silly game, I’ll have to fire myself as well,” Ada says, pulling herself back under control.  There are tears streaming from her eyes, and Hecate sheepishly hands across her black handkerchief for Ada to clean herself.  Her hand is caught before she can pull it back.

“Wait,” Ada says, still laughing.  She reaches around her wrist and pulls off a single black bracelet, popping it on Hecate’s wrist.  “There, that’s much more you I think.”  It has a little heart charm on it, and Hecate blushes. 

She doesn’t pull her hand back, and Ada doesn’t let go.

“Thank you,” she says gently.  Her heart is swimming with a lot of emotions all coming in from different directions—Ada laughing, Ada holding her hand, Ada playing the game, and Ada not wanting to fire her.

“I can stay?” she asks, unsure she’s gotten it right. 

“Hecate, if you don’t stay, I’ll be forced to sit myself on the back of your broomstick and join you in my joint shame.”

“That wouldn’t be horrible,” Hecate teases, thinking it sounds more than delightful actually.

She sighs heavily, letting all the pent up energy ease from her shoulders.  Ada’s thumb is stroking her hand, and Hecate can’t stop noticing how the bracelet shines in the candlelight.  For such a silly little trinket, it seems to come with quite a heavy weight.

The moment between them is electric—anything can happen. 

“Funny, I would have thought this part came before you topping me in the middle of a field,” Ada teases quietly.  Hecate sputters, thrown off balance, but she isn’t upset about the comment.  Because Ada thinks this part means something too, that it means something that could lead to _that._

There are no rules to this game, no structures to follow.  She can lean over and kiss her if she wants, because in this moment she can feel Ada letting her set the next step. 

Hecate thinks she might just take it, feels her heart thud in her chest.

And then Ada’s office door is unceremoniously flung open, breaking the spell between them.  Hecate snatches her hand back and reels around to yell at the intruder.

“You _must_ knock before entering Miss Cackle’s office!” she exclaims harshly.  Perhaps a little too harshly, she thinks a moment later as she realizes the first year is already in tears, but oh well.  That’s no excuse for lacking manners.

Ada rolls her eyes and rushes over to help, leading the child over to the seat by the fire and offering cookies.

Hecate knows this is her area of skill, knows her own presence is only going to make matters worse, so she quietly slips away, thinking longingly of the moment now gone and wondering if she can get it back.

As she walks through the halls, checking thoughtlessly for any more signs of trouble, her hand strays to her wrist where Ada placed the bracelet.  Hecate smiles, fingering it in secret—her trinket from Ada.

Yes, she thinks, the moment will come again.

On another day, when another game comes and threatens the school.  When Hecate continues to serve on as deputy head for another disaster.

With Ada, the moment will always come again.


End file.
